Come in for Coffee
by smacky30
Summary: Post ep for 3x11 Birthright. JJ changes her mind about going to the bar with the team and ends up driving Hotch home. Rating is for implied smut and language.


**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Many, many thanks to Mingsmommy for her mad beta skills. And to losingntrnslatn for accepting this even if she doesn't like the pairing. I have been particularly neurotic about this story and these two women have gone above and beyond over the past week.**

The first beer goes down like water. The second is even easier. By the time he starts on the fourth, J.J. is sitting beside him, studiously avoiding his gaze. When Hotch takes the first swallow out of number six, Dave just shakes his head and raises an eyebrow in a way that tells him that he's not allowed to drive himself home.

Things are starting to blur around the edges; the voices of his friends fading into nothing more than background noise, the piano music a low hum on the air around him like the droning of bees on a lazy summer day. He leans back against the cushions of the low couch and lets out a long breath. For the first time in months, he feels the pain in his chest lessening.

"How long?" Her voice is so soft he thinks he may have imagined it. But he turns his head and her blue eyes are full of concern and, if he hadn't had so much to drink, he would say hurt.

"A couple of months. Since Milwaukee." Everything feels heavy now, his head, his hands, even his tongue. Blinking slowly, he holds her gaze, looking for something he's sure isn't there.

J.J. drops her eyes to her lap where her hands are fisted together. He follows her gaze and wonders why she's hanging on to herself so tightly. Hotch wants to reach over and take one of her hands in his, to bring it to his face and rub his cheek against her palm just to find out if her skin is as soft as he thinks it is. Instead, he wraps both hands around the beer bottle and hangs on for dear life.

"Where are you living?" Her voice snaps him back to the present, to the dimly lit bar with its overheated air.

He rattles off his address and she looks surprised. "That's only about a mile from me."

Not quite sure what he should say, he simply nods. If he wasn't so pathetic, he might laugh at himself; he's never had a problem talking to her before now. Hotch opens his mouth to say something, but Emily touches J.J.'s arm and she gives him one last lingering look before turning away. Her hair slides over her shoulder, and he thinks about what it would feel like to run his hands through it, to bury his face in it and breathe her in. Desire, familiar and no longer quite as forbidden, whispers through his veins and he takes another swallow from his beer in an effort to drown it out.

Morgan is telling Reid some story about picking up a girl in a bar in Dubuque and Hotch wishes he had stories like that to tell. But he doesn't. Even in his college days he didn't do anything that would make for good stories twenty years later. He had a goal, _a mission_ as his father put it. And he completed it. College, then law school, then marriage. And look where that got him. A career that sucks up everything in its path, a soon to be ex-wife, a son he has to beg to see, and a hard on for a colleague.

Dave is watching him now, a knowing smile on his face. The damn man can read him _too_ well. Hotch resists the urge to do something totally unsuitable like flip him off. Hell, he's been resisting the urge to do something totally unsuitable for so long that he can't remember being any other way. So, instead of giving in, he just scowls at his old friend and drains the last of the beer.

Emily starts making noises about leaving and before long they are all out in the parking lot. The cold air hits him, sucking his breath out and clearing his head. He knows he's had too much to be able to drive but at least he's awake now.

"I'll drive him home." J.J. says as they all stand around saying their good-byes, and he's not sure if it's the cold or if she's blushing but her cheeks are pink and she's not meeting his eyes again. "He lives closer to me than to anyone else."

Rossi doesn't look convinced. "You aren't big enough to drag him inside if he passes out."

"I'm standing right here," Hotch snaps. "I'm not going to pass out, Dave. I just had a couple too many." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Go home. I'll ride with J.J."

Holding his hands up in defeat, Rossi backs toward his truck. His eyes move from Hotch to J.J. and back and he seems resigned to something. "Okay, okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You bet." Hotch turns and follows J.J. to her car. He pulls open the door and wedges himself into the front seat. The car is so small his knees are touching the dash and his head almost brushes the roof. Fastening his seat belt, he heaves out a sigh, leans his head back against the head rest and his eyes slide closed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hotch lets his head roll to the side so he can watch her. "I thought you weren't coming?" It's the only thing he can think of to break the silence.

"I changed my mind. Those files'll be there tomorrow." She tucks her hair behind her ear, her movement a little jerky. "You can…um…move the seat back if you need to."

He raises his head now. _Is she nervous? Have I done something to make her nervous?_ "Is something wrong?"

"No," she shoots him a quick smile. "You just look uncomfortable."

"I am uncomfortable. But that's because your car is the size of a sardine can." He grins at her then before quickly turning serious. "So, why are you uncomfortable?"

"I'm not." Turning her head, she glances at him and then back at the road. "Why would you say that?"

"J.J.," he softens his voice to match the intimacy of the setting, "you could barely sit still in the bar, your hand was shaking just a second ago, and you can't seem to talk to me. So, tell me what's wrong."

"I guess I'm just surprised by your news." She keeps her gaze on the road and her hands clenched on the wheel.

The miles tick by. There is no sound in the car except the whisper of the tires against the road and the occasional vehicle going by them. The heat is on, and warm air flows around his feet before rising to make him a little drowsy. Now that he's out of the bracing December air, the beer he consumed seems to be working over time. Once again he's feeling a little detached from what's going on around him, heavy and lethargic and…loose. He laughs at that, and she turns to look at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

Instead of answering, he says, "You're beautiful." She shakes her head. "You are."

She doesn't look at him as she takes the exit onto Notch Road. "Thank you." This time he knows the color in her cheeks is definitely a blush.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you." He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. Turning to stare out the window into the night, he murmurs, "Maybe that last beer wasn't such a great idea."

Stopping for a red light, J.J. lays her hand on his arm and her touch tightens something low in his belly. "Hotch? Look at me, please." When he complies, she says, "I'm not embarrassed. I just didn't expect that from you."

"Maybe I'm not as predictable as you think." The urge to kiss her, to feel her perfect mouth moving against his is almost overwhelming. It's possible she can see that desire in his eyes because her lips part and she gives a little gasp.

The bleat of a car horn has them both jumping. Jerking her eyes away from his, J.J. drives through the intersection and makes a left at the next light. Now the street is a little darker, the street lights leaving puddles of light on the asphalt. Outside the windows, the shops and bars have been replaced by houses. Most of them are dark, the occupants already in bed. The clock on the dash shows that it's just after midnight. Through the blur of the alcohol, he realizes it's a new day.

They drive in silence. But now the air is charged, crackling with things unspoken. Slowing the car, J.J. takes a right onto the street leading to his condo.

"Follow this around to the back. I'm in the last building on the left." Hotch draws in a deep breath, and the sweet scent of her floods his senses. She always smells so good, so feminine. He's not the type of man who can name a flower by its fragrance and he's not about to learn, but he'd know her scent anytime, anywhere.

She steers around the small park with the fountain that sits in the center of the complex. Lights highlight the sprays of water and illuminate the grassy area surrounded by a jogging path.

"This is nice." J.J. remarks, as she navigates through the traffic circle.

"I thought it would be good for Jack. Some place to play outside. There's a pool, tennis courts and a fitness facility just past my place."

"The trees and planting beds are beautiful. I'll bet it's gorgeous in the spring." She's looking around as she drives, a smile lighting her face.

"I'm not here that much. As you well know." He watches her smile fade and mentally kicks himself. "Sorry. It is very pretty but…" His words trail off. How could he explain to her that he doesn't want to live here? Doesn't want to have to worry about having a place for Jack to play or swim or sleep on the odd weekend that they are together?

"It's okay. I should've thought…," she trails off.

"J.J.," this time he touches her arm, "don't." He's quiet as he points her to a parking space. When she has the car in park, he releases his seatbelt and twists in his seat until he can see her without getting a crick in his neck. "I could use a cup of coffee."

She smiles, her eyes skating over his features. "You should probably go to bed. Tomorrow's a school day."

Tentatively, he reaches out and fingers the end of her ponytail. _Feels like silk, _flitters through his mind. "Come in? Have a cup with me?"

He sees it again, that flash of awareness in her eyes. Then she drops her gaze to somewhere around his third button. "I don't think I should."

Desire and common sense clash and he feels it in the center of his chest. He wants her. Not some nameless, faceless woman, but J.J. He wants her warm and willing and writhing beneath him. But they have to work together, to be able to look each other in the eye in just under eight hours and convince five very astute people that they are nothing more than colleagues. Then he looks into her eyes, the blue so dark it's almost black, and he sees his own thoughts mirrored in their depths. The knowledge that this moment was decided before he got into her car floods through him.

"Damn." His hand is under her chin, tilting her head up. "I should've let Dave bring me home." Then he kisses her. And while this isn't a story he intends to tell anybody, he knows he'll definitely remember it in twenty years.

She only hesitates for a second. Then she's kissing him back, her lips warm and pliant against his own. One hand comes up to rest on his chest and Hotch wonders fleetingly if she's going to push him away, then he feels her fingers curl into the material and he deepens the kiss. His tongue teases her lips apart and slips inside her mouth and she makes this soft, needy sound that skates along his nerve endings and settles in his groin.

Pulling back, he brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. "Come in, J.J. Please?" His lips touch hers again, before skimming along the line of her jaw. "Just one cup of coffee," he whispers against her ear. Hotch knows that they both know he's not talking about coffee. Vaguely, he wonders when he began using coffee as a euphemism for sex. Then he feels her nod and he pulls back so that he can see her face. "Was that a yes?" This time she's the one who kisses him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The elevator crawls slowly up to the fifth floor and he's sure she'll change her mind before the doors open, but she simply steps out and follows him down the hall. The key doesn't seem to fit in the lock and he realizes his hands are shaking.

Hotch can't remember any woman other than Haley. Not really. Maybe because, until her, the others were just about release of the physical variety, and since her there haven't been any. But this woman is different. He works with her, sees her everyday – at her best and her worst. And he can't swear that this is nothing more than physical.

The lock gives way with a quiet snick and he ushers her inside. He flips a switch and lamp light glows warm and golden, pushing back the darkness. J.J. moves across the room to stand in front of the windows and stare out into the dark, her blonde hair catching the light.

"I don't know how to do this." He shoves his hands in his pockets and moves to stand beside her. "In the car…I thought I did but it's been a long time."

She turns to look at him, a soft smile tilting her lips up at the corners. "You were doing just fine out there."

Her teasing tone relaxes him. They've been here before. Well, not quite _here_ here, but the teasing is familiar, safe. Smiling back at her, taking a step closer, he asks, "Come on, you don't think that whole 'coffee' thing was too cornball?"

"Well, maybe a little." Her hands are on his chest and she's so close he's having trouble remembering what they are talking about. "But if it works, don't change it."

He touches her, his arms wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer. "Is it working?"

"Hmmmm." She slips the first button on his shirt free. "It might be. Depends on if you _really_ wanted coffee." The second button gives way under her fingers.

"Tell me what you want." Hotch slips his hand under the hem of her shirt and touches her skin. _She's like silk everywhere. _He wants nothing more than to have her naked in his bed, to see her pale skin against the navy of his sheets.

Pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat, her teeth nipping gently at his skin, J.J. says, "I can get coffee anywhere."


End file.
